


Control

by Korpuskat



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Choking, Command Kink???, Crying, Cum eating?, D/s overtones, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, F/M, Fingerfucking, Forced Orgasm, Glove Kink, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Just Following Orders™, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Leather Kink, Manipulation, Misuse of Military Rank, Naked Female Clothed Male, PWP, Verbal Humiliation, possibly dubcon, probably noncon ie why i tagged it as such
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 10:00:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6324697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Korpuskat/pseuds/Korpuskat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You just wanted him to give you an order, not to leave you floundering to figure out what he wanted. Kylo Ren takes that with another meaning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Control

**Author's Note:**

> fair warning: this is Not a Nice Fic. Probably ooc with just my excuse to write Kylo + my kinks.
> 
>  **Contains** A mishap that leads to noncon that could be read as dubcon? Dom!Kylo, vague threat of physical violence, Kylo ordering the Reader around, glove kink, mask kink, rough fingerfucking, dirty talk, humiliation, choking, manipulation into sexual servitude?, forced orgasm, crying, Kylo is Not A Good Person

It had been an accident, you thought. A simple accident that would get you killed. A human error in the sea of a crowd, of a formal event held for a minor victory, rewarded with a minor celebration in one of the officer’s lounges.

Your superiors had highly _suggested_ that you attend, the sort of suggestion that was just shy of an order. The kind of suggestion that says you’d better attend or you’d receive some unofficial, unsanctioned punishment that probably meant allocating more tasks to you rather than your peers. And, though you weren’t exactly a social butterfly (that is to say, you were more of a wallflower and barely existed within the room at all), you had figured it wouldn’t be worth it to skip it.

So you dressed nicely- a black skirt and shirt that could be mistaken for a dress. Just something to show your superiors that, yes, hello, you’re here and you cared enough to dress up, please don’t punish me now. Upon arrival you sought out some coworkers, persons who you saw regularly enough to perhaps consider acquaintances. You greeted them, slid into a healthy, quiet conversation within the group.

“I heard the General and Lord Ren were gonna show up,” A comms officer- Dennings, perhaps?- said to no one in particular, typical crowd gossip. She didn’t even sound like she believed it. “You know, to boost morale or something.”

That’d be something, to see the highest ranking men on the ship- in the _Order_ \- socializing. Stripped of their official rank for a few hours, coexisting among personnel. 

“Hux probably will.” A man you don’t recognize replies. “He’ll do anything to get respect, even if it requires _mingling._ ”

“What about Ren?” You ask. The man looks to you as though he was only just realizing you were, in fact, a real person who was actually standing there. 

You flushed and wanted to backtrack, feeling you’d overstepped some unspoken societal protocol line. It was just curiosity, you told yourself. You didn’t work near the bridge and rarely got to see either of the co-commanders except in passing. And even then...

Okay, it was probably something a _little more_ that curiosity. If you were being actually honest with yourself you’d admit that maybe a few times you’d wondered about the strange, cloaked man that wandered the halls of the Finalizer. And maybe a few times your thoughts had been a little less than professional. Thoughts about the mysterious power he held, about his intimidating persona he held- was it real? Was it an act? You’d heard he had no patience, no leniency. You did what he asked or you would suffer. Very commanding, indeed.

“Lord Ren’s not exactly a socialite.” Dennings replies instead- trying to put something lightly, you suspected. Trying not to exactly, directly insult her commander- or, anyone who chokes people who displease him. Chokes people with his _mind _.__

The man snorts, rolls his eyes. “He’s a fucking freak.”

“ _Veirmer!_ ” Denning’s wide eyes flitted around the room, searching for Kylo Ren- as though he could be summoned by insulting him. 

“He _is_.” The man, Veirmer, turns to you. “He never talks to anyone, never takes meals with the other officers, probably has the social skills of a dead nug. No one’s even see his face before, he practically lives in his helmet. Like, what fucking officer does that- Phasma has _her_ mask off,” He motioned wildly towards a woman with close-cropped blonde hair. “There’s no _way_ he’ll show up to this.” 

The conversation was purposely changed by Dennings, moving to some office rumor about Hux having a secret pet- a cat named Millicent. “Greene over in engineering says sometimes there’s ginger fur on Hux’s uniform.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Dennings, but General Hux _is_ ginger.”

You didn’t really pay attention after that, just stood and pretended to listen amicably. You knew Kylo Ren was mysterious to you, but you couldn’t believe he was actually that weird. Nobody got into a position of power without some deal of social ability, of being able to control the masses- which was exactly _why_ Hux showed up.

Posturing, appearing to be one with the crew. No one quite remarked directly upon his arrival, just continued on with the murmur of conversation, the slow current of persons moving from one group to another. Seemed his plan was working quite well- and he was good enough at socializing that he was able to float freely through the room, eventually finding his way to Captain Phasma’s side, speaking with her and another captain.

You were considering slipping out- surely you’d been here long enough to please your superiors- when spell of quiet fell over the room for a moment, everyone’s eyes immediately finding the source of the discontent. The main doorway was shadowed by a hulking figure, horribly tall and still masked. Unlike anyone else in the room, who had obviously read the event was formal, but not _uniform formal_ , the Knight was dressed completely in his robes- no different than how he looked the handful of times you’d seen him in the hallways.

He stepped away from the door, sliding along the edge of the room. Conversation was pointedly restarted, albeit slightly hushed. Dennings had her arms wrapped around herself, glancing anxiously between Veirmer and the floor. Veirmer, to his credit, at least looked a little shocked that Ren had shown up. You looked to the Knight, trying to find where he’d disappeared to, but he’d already melted into the shadows, blending into the crowd despite his height and unusual attire. Figures that he’d show up just to disappear again, if he was really as weird as Veirmer had insisted. 

Well, at least you could leave now. Maybe your superiors would be okay with you avoiding sharing a room with the terrifying Knight of Ren. You said a brief, polite goodbye to Dennings and Veirmer and worked your way through the crowd back towards the exit- towards being able to return to your quarters and strip down to something comfortable and relax for a while. That was when the accident happened.

You moved closer to the edge of the room, trying to avoid cutting directly through little pockets of people. To be polite, to not draw attention to yourself. You were nearly to the door when- a dark-hair lieutenant stepped back, laughing at some joke his colleagues had made- catching your entire side and knocking you off balance- stumbling, nearly falling face-first into another person. He caught you first, one hand catching your wrist, the other your shoulder- your head still uncomfortably close to a rough hewn collar. 

You felt, however, that you had hit your head on something- the odd ringing in your head making you dizzy, nauseous. 

You didn’t need to look up to know who you’d stumbled into. You cheeks burned in shame, blood cold in the horror of whatever mess you’d just stumbled into. You glanced behind you- to the lieutenant who had bumped into you. He had begun to blush in embarrassment, but had immediately gone white. “I-I’m so sorry.” 

You gave him a tightlipped smile, and he scurried away. You stepped away from him- the hand on your shoulder falling away, but not the one around your wrist which was holding a little too tightly to be entirely comfortable. Finally allowing yourself to look up- really, you had to look up, because wow he was even more ridiculously tall than you had imagined. Your image reflected back at your from the visor, eyes dropping in a horrifying mix of embarrassment and terror. You had little doubt he’d killed people for less than this. “S-sorry, Sir.” 

The helmet tilted, watching you. He said nothing. The hand around your wrist did not let go- warmth sliding and imprinting into your skin despite the black leather separating you. He’s covered every inch of skin, you thought. It wasn’t unusual in the order, but it _was_ unusual in the higher-ranking officers. His thumb stroked over your wrist, and you shivered. Fear? Latent, badly timed arousal? You weren’t sure. 

He jerked your arm closer- as close as you had been when he’d caught you. Your breath caught in your chest- eyes snapping up to his visor- desperately wishing you could read whatever expression was on his face. How could you know what to do if he wasn’t giving you an order? Really, you weren’t trained for this- there wasn’t even any protocol to begin to explain this situation-- so you just sort of stood there in shock, letting him do with you as he pleased. One wrist in Kylo’s bruising grip, legs beginning to tremble, eyes flicking over the blank mask. An embarrassing warmth settled between your legs- of fucking _course_ it did. 

And Kylo’s hand dropped. He stepped away. 

You didn’t need another cue, just turned and fled the room. 

 

 

 

You returned to your quarters as quickly as you could, holding the still overly warm wrist in the opposite hand. A quick glance revealed it wasn’t, in fact, bruised or burned or somehow completely missing. It certainly felt like it though- your wrist blistering hot against your palm, an ache that radiated to your fingertips and up to your elbow. Never mind the ache below your belly. This was so inappropriate, so against everything you’d ever learned in the Academy.

You hadn’t expected the evening to go well, but this? This was a disaster. You’d made a fool of yourself in front of _Commander Ren_. And you were fairly sure your direct superior had seen your hurried escape from the party. So now you’d gone to the party, would probably get bad looks tomorrow, and got on one of the highest ranking officer’s shit lists. You wanted to cry. You kicked off your shoes and sat on the edge of your bed, holding your face in your hands. You didn’t even have the energy to pull off your skirt and blouse, despite how uncomfortable they were.

How the fuck were you supposed to deal with this? If he’d just- told you to apologize or, just- anything at all that wasn’t just standing there, staring at you. You hated that. You hated not knowing what to do.

 _Knock knock._ The resounding echo of a fist tapping on metal. Fuck, probably your superior coming to tell you that you’d been an embarrassment to your crew or something. You bit your lip and stood, wrangling control of your face and moving to the door. You stood there, staring at the panel for moment. You’d survive this. No matter the verbal lashing you received, you’d be okay. 

You pressed the button.

It wasn’t your direct superior at the door.

You swallowed hard, eyes darting up to stare at the same mask as before. “Lord Ren,” You tried to greet him formally and failing, sounding more like you were about to cry (which you were) than you had dared to let show. Your fists clenched hard at your side, unsure if you were about to meet your end. Kylo Ren stepped forward, into the room- you took a step back. His hand moved behind him and- the door closed, the module flashing red. He locked the door.

You were so, so dead. 

“Were you ordered to attend that?” You jumped at the cold, modulated voice. All troopers’ masks had vocorders in them, but… his was different. Darker. You’d never heard it in person.

You nodded once. “Yes, Sir.” 

He took a step closer, you took one back- the backs of your knees touching the edge of your bed. He loomed over you, predatory. You felt like he was crushing you down with his presence alone- making you want to skirt away and hide. “Do you _enjoy_ orders, officer?”

Your cheeks flushed, unsure what the appropriate- _scripted_ answer to that particular question was. It felt like a trick, either way you could answer. “S-sir?”

“You wanted me to tell you what to do.” Your eyes widened, wanting to protest. But, it was true. The mask tilted, observing your reaction. “You were _lost_ without instruction.”

You opened your mouth, hesitated. Your eyes dropped to the floor, trying to piece together a response. “I wasn’t… sure what you wanted… Sir.” You swallowed, chewing on your lip. That probably wasn’t the best choice of words. You tried again: “I just wanted to, um. Appease you, Sir.” Since you practically fell on him and made of fool of yourself. Stupid!

“What I wanted?” He repeated, pondering the implications. “To appease me?” You nodded again. It was your basic set of instructions with the Order, to do as your superiors ask of you. It was always easier when they did ask something of you, told you what they wanted explicitly. 

He waited a beat- staring at you from behind the black visor. “Lie down. On your back.”

You startled, spine stiffening and staring wide-eyed at him. Had you- heard that right? “Sir?”

“Lie. Down.” He leaned in close, the snout of his mask making you lean away, “Or I’ll make you.” 

You shuddered, paused, and lowered yourself onto the bed. You sat there for a breath before hesitantly moving backwards, scooting back to your pillows and lying on your back. Just as he’d ordered. What was he playing at…?

The Knight moved closer to the bed, peering down at you- the monster that had hidden under your mattress as a child come to life. And here he was- come to eat you alive- one knee pressing into and dipping the bed, moving to kneel on the foot of the bed. His hands politely in his lap, mask as impassive as ever. An observer, for the moment. “Lower your shirt.”

Your hands shook. This was some sort of punishment- to make you feel ashamed again, surely. To prove you were loyal to your commander’s will. You flushed and pushed the sleeves off your shoulders, taking a steadying breath- assuring yourself you were _under orders_ to do so- and pushing the dark fabric down, below your breasts. You pointedly looked away from him, biting your lip in shame. 

“Raise your skirt.” Your hands inched down, bundling the fabric and pulling it up- lifting your hips to fully reveal your legs- your underwear. Your hands fell to your sides, nails scraping at your palms, wishing to be anywhere else.

Warm leather touched your thigh- you jerked up- your hand catching his wrist just as he had done to you. That fucking mask, betraying nothing as you stared- scared. What was he doing? You choked out: “ _Sir?_ ” 

“Relax.” You didn’t remove your hand from his wrist, eyebrows pinching together- lip aching from your chewing on it. You hadn’t been trained for this-- “ _Relax._ That’s an _order_.”

Somehow you found the power to let go of his wrist, to lay your shaking hands back on the blanket. Your eyes went to the ceiling, mind falling back on classifying ships, on comm codes, anything that was not your quarters at this very moment. A second warm hand appeared on the opposite thigh, and you breathed in shakily, thighs trembling under his palms- “Bite your hand; your lips will bleed.” 

You nodded and, without thinking, obeyed- raising one fist and biting into the side of your index finger. The skin of your hand was thicker, taking more effort to harm. The warm leather slid higher, the seams dragging on your skin, sending shivers up and down your body. When the tips of his fingers brushed the hem of your underwear, your eyes watered- stinging as you blinked away purely anxious tears. 

An odd pressure swept over your mind, the ringing from before returning to your ears. His fingers lingered there, at the edge of the synthcloth, tracing delicate, tingling innocuous patterns over the sensitive skin. He was waiting, on. You? He was the one giving you all the orders, what did he expect of you now? You certainly knew what he intended- the idea alone sending a rush of pleasure so close to his hands. You worked the courage to look to his mask once more- his head tilted, waiting. An unspoken question.

“I can _make_ anyone obey me.” The robotic voice spoke, distant from the warm hands at your thighs. “It’s not _fun_ unless you _choose_ to obey me.” Your brows pinched together again, not following his meaning. Why talk about this now? “I won’t be _kind_ if i have to force you.” You shuddered, wetness burning at your eyes. Was any of this kind so far? And, if it was- what the hell was his version of _not kind_? “Are you going to obey? Of your own accord?”

You inhaled around your fist- and nodded. 

You could feel the smirk in his voice: “Good.” His gloves finally caught the hem of your underwear- pulling the cloth down your legs, off your body, leaving you completely visible to him. “Spread your legs.”

You stared at the ceiling again- took a deep breath- and parted your thighs. A pleased, rewarding groan reverberated through his chest- his mask spitting out incoherent static. His hands found your thighs, holding your legs further open- his mask lowering as he examined your cunt. Your teeth dug into your hand. “Very good…” Praise, given your current circumstance, should not have been welcome- and yet, you couldn’t help to sigh at his words. His grip shifted, grabbing your thighs and pulling- “Come here,”

He moved you so your hips were on his knees- your entire pelvis angled upwards, giving him perfect access to your sex. Your legs hung in the air, held open by their own weight. 

A leather-covered thumb slid through your wetness- the seams catching pleasantly in ways you’d never feel otherwise. Your breath caught against your fist- “No, moan for me.” You flushed- thinking of if you’d get in trouble with your neighbors- too used to having to be quiet, avoid noise citations and shame. His thumb moved up to brush over your clit- you inhaled sharply and bit off a moan.

Kylo growled- displeasure shifting through his entire body. His free hand flicked upwards and-- your fist was wrenched from your teeth as you gasped, both hands flying back to land palm-up on the pillow beside your head. Anchored about the wrist by an invisible chain. You couldn’t move them. He caught your clit between thumb and index finger, rolling cruelly. “I said. Moan for me.” 

You did. Your head falling back, eyes closing as more tears threatened to fall- letting loose a needy noise, hips shifting away from his too-rough fingers.

Kylo rewarded this was a pleased noise, more static from his voice modulator. His fingers releasing your clit, moving down- sliding two gloved fingers into you. Best- or worst?- you could see them. With this angle, your hips raised and tilted back- you could see those black leather fingers sliding in, disappearing into your own body. Against your better judgement, you tried to lift your hips- to bury his fingers deeper, but without your feet to provide leverage, you could barely move. You whined, shifting restlessly. 

“Look at me.” Your eyes snapped up immediately, watching that mask, where his face _should_ be. His fingers began to move- a steady thrusting, your thighs shaking- the seams of his gloves stroking so strangely across your walls. You wondered what his face was like- was he as impassive as his mask? Was he getting worked up, flushed with his own desire?

He worked a third finger in, stretching you open so you ached to be filled- fingerfucking you harder, your whole body rocking in time with his bruising rhythm- eyes threatening to close with every push in- every little noise falling from your lips from his power over you. “You’ve always wanted someone to control you- to _use_ you like this, haven’t you?”

You whined- cheeks burning with shame. Your eyes flitted away for a moment- snapping back at his promise of being less than kind. “N-no, Sir.” 

A huff of static came through the modulator again, an indignant noise, “I’m in your head, officer. I can see what you like. What you think about.” You took in a shaking breath, fear pulling your mind away- your fantasies on display, rifled through like yesterday’s newspaper.

“It could be anyone giving you orders.” He crooked his fingers upwards, stroking and tapping along that spot that made you gasp and writhe- feel a pleasure you didn’t entirely want. “Anyone at all, and you’d be wet for them.”

“N-no,” Tears stung at your eyes, lips twisting between moans and the desire to sob. You tugged uselessly to free your arms and wrists to no avail- you were stuck. You closed your eyes and turned away, hot tears sliding over your cheeks.

His hand caught your throat, threatening to squeeze- “ _Look at me, girl._ ” With a whimper you obeyed, your sight blurred with tears- still able to see the rhythmic motions of his arm, the shining metal bands around his visor. “You’ve always wanted this- to pleasure your superiors. To do anything they wanted you to.” A shuddering sigh passed through his lips, “You said it yourself, you wanted ‘to appease’ me.” 

“I didn’t--” You sobbed, biting your lip. You wanted so badly to just, throw your head to the side, but the hand at your throat kept your head in place, the threat of choking keeping your eyes on the unseeing visor of his mask. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

“Oh, you _did_ mean it.” His hand’s pace increasing, the stroking more insistent, harder, pulling you towards something you couldn’t possibly want. A laugh, deep in his chest. “I know you want it. Can’t you feel how wet you are? Can’t you hear yourself moaning? You’ve wanted this a long time, I’m just finally giving it to you.” Another laugh, “You should be _thanking_ me.” 

You whined, clenching your teeth- breathing hard, shifting your hips, anything- anything at all to relieve the pressure in your cunt. You _couldn’t._ Not like this, not for him-- “You’re wrong--!”

“Am I?” His mask tilted again, “I _know_ you like being controlled, being told what to do. So let’s test who’s right.” His hand changed angles- pulling, stroking, right _there--_ thumb sliding across your clit once, twice- “Cum for me. Right now.” Your body was loyal to its master. 

Burning waves of pleasure crashed over you, threatening to drown your mind in their wake. Your eyes screwed shut, mouth falling open in a silent sob or scream or moan- your entire upper body arching off the bed, muscles twitching and spasming beyond your control. Tears pouring from your eyes, the first coherent noise a broken sob as Kylo’s fingers pulled you through it, working all the pleasure your body had to offer him. 

Static filtered through his modulator, consistent white noise as your mind tried so very hard to piece through what had happened. A fresh wave of tears threatened to fall- he was right. He _had_ to be. How could you have had an orgasm and not liked it? The static got louder, the hand that had been on your throat now petting your hair, a soothing motion as you allowed yourself to look to him. 

In his visor you could see your reflection- flushed, tear-stained. You realized the static was him _shushing_ you. You felt sick- with yourself. He’d. He’d given you an orgasm, was fucking _consoling_ you. Did, did you owe him? “Not this time, pet.” Right. Still in your head. “I wouldn't want overwhelm you just yet.”

You sniffed, looking away, flinching as he pulled his stained glove out of your body, leaving an aching, sore emptiness behind. He studied it for a moment, running his fingers through the mess you’d made of his gloves. He paused and then- raised his clean hand to his mask, clicking something, reaching to the other side and--

With a hiss of compressed air, he pulled off his mask, letting it fall off the side of the bed. You… weren’t sure what you had expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. He was, attractive. Cheeks flushed a bright red in arousal. His eyes flicked up to you- nearly black with lust, he huffed a laugh. “You did _this_ ,” He ran his thumb through the white, creamy mess. “And you didn’t even know what I _looked like_.” He clucked his tongue, shaming you like a child.

You flushed again, sniffing- rubbing your eyes on your shoulder as best you could, hands still pinned to the bed. “Here.” He held his hand up to your mouth, sliding over your lips- “Clean them.” 

You hesitated, but. You made the mess. You opened your mouth, hesitantly licking at the first finger. Your own cum, thick and viscous, mixed with the tang of well-oiled leather. Not an awful taste you decide- Kylo pushes all three fingers into your mouth, pressing them down against your tongue, making you gag--

His clean hand fists your hair, yanking so you look to him again- his face crowded over yours, eyes dark and intense- the angle pressing his painfully hard cock against your over sensitive cunt until you whined. “No one will ever make you cum like I can. You will _never_ find anyone as good as I am. You were _made_ for me, do you understand?” 

You moaned, tried for “Yes, Sir,” around his fingers- which seemed to please him enough to let go of your hair. You sucked his fingers clean obediently, and when you were done he moved away. He dropped your hips off his knees, standing and collecting his mask. 

He watched you for a moment- and said nothing as he replaced his helmet, and left.

**Author's Note:**

> come tell me ur kinks at [ my Tumblr.](http://korpuskat.co.vu/)


End file.
